


Starslammer

by Whymsical



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Cryogenics, M/M, Minor Injuries, Outer Space, Recovery, Tumblr: usukustwiceperyear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 14:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18100757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whymsical/pseuds/Whymsical
Summary: After many years adrift among the stars, Alfred is rescued and set on the path to recovering the use of his body. His physical therapist is a positive driving force during that recovery, but the situation could get sticky once Alfred realizes his feelings for the man are deeper than he thought.





	Starslammer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey got another TwicePerYear fic for you guys! This collection's theme was 'Recovery is Possible', and you can check out the whole collection [here](https://usukustwiceperyear.tumblr.com/post/183429767766/recovery-is-possible-a-collection-of-fanarts)!

Alfred floated through space, free.

The stars wheeled around him, or he around them. He wasn’t sure. It didn’t really matter either way. He was among them, trailing his fingers through ice and light and stardust, and it was enough.

He’d lost sense of time long ago. How long, he couldn’t say. Seconds, hours, minutes. Decades. Millennia. Eons. He was beyond it. Time passed, he knew logically, but it couldn’t touch him.

He didn’t mind that.

He couldn’t feel his body. When he wanted to reach out, he did, but he wasn’t conscious of the movement. At times, it seemed his limbs were made of starstuff and glittered in the light of countless suns. Whether he closed his eyes or kept them open, the view remained the same.

A smile stretched across his face as he reached out to touch a star.

Starslammer.

He no longer knew what that meant. It had been important, once. Now it was just a word, but he liked the sound of it.

_Is that me? Am I a starslammer?_

His fingertips passed through burning light and the star drifted from grasp. He stared at his hand, clenched it tight. This realm was beautiful, but cold.

Lonely.

The universe exploded.

Alfred screamed as he fell. Pressure squeezed him from all sides, and his head felt as if it had been split open. The blood in his veins seared as it started moving, and his chest felt heavier than it had ever been. He was dying, choking, the stars were gone-

The stars were gone.

The universe was gone.

Everything stopped.

It was quiet, and dark.

There was nothing.

* * *

 

“He’s stabilizing. We’ve got him, he’s back, and he’s stabilizing.”

Where did that come from? Who was there? Alfred tried turning his head around, opening his eyes, reaching out, anything, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything. His body refused to obey him.

“Can we get a record on him? Who he is?”

“He’s still too unstable to take a blood sample. It’ll be twenty-four hours at least until that’s possible.”

There was movement around him, footsteps and the soft shift of cloth, but the sounds were still largely muted. Everything was muted and dull and…empty. Where were the stars? Where was the light?

“They don’t send just anyone into space. There should be a record _somewhere_ -”

“If there is, it could take days for the information to be found and sent over.”

Where?

Where? Where? _Where?_

“Scans are showing increased activity.” A moment’s pause. “Too much; he’s panicking.”

“Can you understand us? Can you hear us? 050, you need to calm down.”

050?

Was he 050? No…

No, he was Alfred. That much he knew. That much had stayed with him.

Where was he? Who were these people?

_Where were the stars?_

“050, you need to calm down. You’re overloading your brain-”

“Just put him under! Until we can hook him up.”

He howled soundlessly, searching for something, anything that would give him any clues as to what happened.

His thoughts slowed to a crawl. Everything was so _heavy_ all of a sudden. He was motionless, floating on the surface of a pool of black water. The water was so inviting too, warm and thick and tugging him under.

Alfred sank, this time completely quiet.

* * *

 

“…hear? Mr. Jones? Can you hear me?”

_Jones?_

“Ah, there we are. Yes. You are Alfred F. Jones, correct?”

Alfred struggled back up to the surface of the pool. He felt…different. Lighter, somehow. The space around him was no longer quite as confined or oppressive. And…the voices seemed to be able to talk to him now.

_Alfred F. Jones… Yeah, that’s me. How can…how can you talk to me?_

He still couldn’t open his eyes, or move any of his muscles.

“The hospital has basically hooked you up to a machine through which they are able to tap into your brain activity and use a computer to project your thoughts to us. I can hear you through special earphones I’m currently wearing.”

_That’s possible?_

The voice – male, Alfred presumed, since it was so low and deep – chuckled. “It is indeed. Technology has made quite a few advances during the time you’ve been lost to us.”

_Lost? What’s going on? Who- Who are you? Where am I? You said…hospital?_

“Yes, Mr. Jones. You’re in the hospital right now, and we’re working on helping you recover the use of your body. I’m going to be your physical therapist. My name is Arthur.”

_Arthur… Where was I lost, Arthur?_

“Well, what do you remember?”

Alfred had to think for a moment. The universe rushed back to him, but the image was…muted. Two-dimensional, instead of all around him. It felt colder than before, and far beyond his reach.

_Stars. I remember…I was among the stars._

“You were indeed, Mr. Jones. You-”

_Alfred._

“Pardon?”

_Call me Alfred. I don’t like Mr. Jones. Too formal._

“Alfred, then. You _were_ in space, for almost a hundred years, in fact. It’s a miracle your little stasis pod survived and was able to keep your body in as good condition as it did.”

Alfred was silent for a long while. A hundred years, alone in space? A hundred years. A century, that he’d just floated there while the rest of life passed him by. What had changed in a hundred years? Everything. Arthur had mentioned the technology. But buildings and nature and art and _people_ \- Everyone he knew must have been dead by now.

“Alfred- Alfred, please, you must calm down, you’re overloading your brain!”

Dead. Dead, dead, _dead_ -

“Doctor! Is there a doctor here?” Arthur sounded panicked.

Other voices joined his, but Alfred was too deep in a maelstrom of despair to be able to distinguish their words. And then the heaviness was back. The pool below him opened up, pulling him into its depths once more.

* * *

 

The next time Alfred woke, his hearing was much less fuzzy. He could hear the faint beeping of machines around him, but he _still_ couldn’t open his eyes or move any part of his body. A few moments later, a door nearby opened and footsteps moved closer to presumably his hospital bed.

_Hello?_

“Hello, Alfred,” Arthur said as he drew up a chair to the bedside with a light scrape. “Welcome back to us.”

_What…happened?_

“I must apologize. I wasn’t thinking how your brain would be affected by the knowledge of how much time had passed. Your body and mind are still in a very delicate state, so the doctors had to put you under again so you wouldn’t cause yourself any damage.”

A hundred years.

Though Alfred threatened to spiral down into despair again, he found he was able to stop himself from tumbling off of that ledge. His mind was clearer, his thoughts stronger and more focused.

_It’s okay. I was really in space for that long?_

“…Yes,” Arthur told him after a moment’s hesitation. “You were lucky that your pod was picked up on another mission’s return home and we were able to recover you.”

_So I’m on Earth now?_

“Yes, you are.”

_How long have I been on Earth?_

“A little over a week. You’ve been in this hospital for six days now.”

_But… I still can’t feel my body. I still can’t move, or speak, or open my eyes. That’s not good, is it? I think… I think I remember it should take up to forty-eight hours to recover from stasis…_

Arthur tapped away at a screen for a moment before clearing his throat again. “That normally would have been correct. Well, with our advances now we’ve been able to shorten that to twelve to sixteen hours for recovery- from a normal, controlled stasis. Alfred, you must understand your pod was in suboptimal conditions for _decades_. You had the frailest of support systems that could have given out at any moment, and it’s nothing short of a miracle that they didn’t. So that, added up with the sheer amount of time you spent suspended, means that the hospital has to be extremely careful with you.”

 _Oh._ Alfred took a long moment to process the words; even though his mind was functioning much more clearly than before, it was still sluggish. _Is that why I can’t do anything?_

“Yes. The doctors have numbed your pain and feeling receptors in your brain until your body could adjust to the movement again.”

_What does that mean?_

“I don’t understand much of the science behind it myself-”

_No, I meant the ‘adjusting to the movement’ part._

“Ah.” Arthur shifted on the chair, producing a soft creak. “Your body was still for so long that even the flow of blood through your veins was incredibly painful for you, not to mention your heartbeat or digestion. It would have overloaded your brain if you could feel it, so they cut everything off for the moment. I assume they’ll start giving you your feeling back within the next few days, though you still likely won’t be able to move for a while. That’s where I come in.”

_Lot of…information…_

“I know, Alfred. Have I said too much? I could leave if you wish, for us to resume the conversation another time.”

_No, it’s okay. Just need a moment…_

“Alright.”

They both fell to silence. Alfred’s mind slowly churned away, replaying all of the information and trying to categorize it, make sense of everything that had apparently happened to him.

He was tired. So tired, by just a few minutes of conversation. He missed the stars. There he felt no pain, no exhaustion. He’d been surrounded by light and just _space_ , untouched by problems like blood and digestion and support systems.

But… He couldn’t deny it was nice to talk to someone.

Arthur hadn’t been among the stars, with his soothing voice and clipped accent and measures upon measures of patience. Alfred liked Arthur’s voice, trusted it and the man behind it. He was able to soothe Alfred’s panic and explained everything clearly and slowly.

He didn’t want to stop talking to Arthur.

Time was still a slippery concept to him, so he wasn’t sure how long had passed by the time he finally felt ready to resume their conversation.

_Arthur?_

“I’m here.”

_You said…you’re my physical therapist?_

“I am.” Arthur sounded pleased. “It’s good you were able to remember that.”

_I remember more from the hospital than- than when I was up there._

“You were up there for a very long time. It’s not surprising your mind grew a little lost.”

_Lost, yeah. I think I got lost._

More tapping. “Do you remember anything else from your time among the stars?”

Alfred tried to concentrate. A single word floated to the forefront of his mind. _Starslammer. I remember that, but I don’t know what it means._

The physical therapist was silent.

_…Arthur?_

“Yes.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, sorry. That’s just a very interesting piece of information for you to remember.”

_What is it? What does it mean?_

“Your…records that we were able to receive show that you were on board an exploratory mission on one USS Starslammer. The ship was lost just a few months into the voyage, and only minor wreckage was able to be recovered.”

A ship. His ship.

Images flashed through his mind.

White and tan walls. Deep blue carpets. Stretches of hallway where only thick glass separated him from the stars. A tiny room that only fit a bed and a collapsible table. A brown bomber jacket tossed onto the mattress.

A siren.

Red flashing lights.

Screams.

Nothing.

Alfred gasped and the beeping on the monitors around him increased in rate.

“Alfred!” Arthur called to him. “Alfred, you must try and let go of your thoughts!”

_Can’t- stop-_

“You don’t need to stop them, Alfred.” Arthur’s voice moved closer to him, still low and soothing despite the undercurrent of panic. “Just don’t hold onto them. Let them flow through you but don’t hang on.”

_Can’t- Hurts, Arthur…_

“Doctor!”

And Alfred sank down again.

“I’m sorry, Alfred. I’m so sorry…” Arthur’s voice was the last thing he heard.

* * *

 

It was different now.

Alfred’s mouth was open as he breathed and he could _feel_ it. The cool rush of air against his lips and teeth as he breathed in, the warm puff of each exhale.

“Alfred, are you there?”

_Arthur…_

He was strangely pleased that Arthur was already there in the room with him. The muscles of his mouth twitched in an attempt of a smile, but he couldn’t quite work them yet.

“Good morning. Well, it’s afternoon actually, but welcome back again.”

Alfred chuckled. _Thanks, Artie._

“Artie?”

_U-Uh, well-_

One of the monitors’ beeping increased again, and Arthur let out a soft laugh in response. “Patient can still experience embarrassment,” he said, enunciating the words as if he were writing the statement down.

_Arthuuuur!_

“It’s good that you can. Means that your body is functioning well and reacting to your emotional state. Have you…noticed anything different, by the way?”

_I can…feel my body?_

“Exactly.” There was a smile in Arthur’s voice. “Your nerves and synapses have been putting out less pain signals, which means your body has mostly adjusted to moving and flowing again. You still might feel some occasional pain from your stomach area or some of your limbs, but if it gets to be too unbearable let me or a doctor or nurse know.”

_I will. Why can’t I still move anything, though? I can’t even open my eyes._

“Ah. Though you have adjusted well to reanimation, your muscles have all but completely atrophied during your time in space. You have very little muscle mass and your body has become weaker than a newborn’s. The hospital had you on a respirator for your first few days until you could breathe on your own.”

Mild panic filled him at that point, and the monitors started beeping more rapidly again. Though Alfred heard the scrape of the chair when Arthur must have stood up, the other man didn’t call for the doctor.

“Alfred?”

_I’m just worried. Will I ever be able to move again? See again? How long will it take? What do I have to do?_

“The hospital is working on rebuilding your muscles right now. You’re being fed a diet rich in proteins, fats, and vitamins and I’m doing stretches and exercises with your limbs multiple times a day to help convert that diet into muscle for you. It’s why I’m here so often. You’ll probably be able to feel me doing it now if you’re aware of your body again.”

Alfred’s mind completely stopped.

Feel…another person touching him?

How long had it been since he’d been aware of someone else’s hands on his body?

His heartbeat took off again, probably alarming Arthur again.

“Alfred?”

_So if… If you touch me now- I could feel it?_

“Would you like to try?”

_Please._

Arthur stood up from the chair entirely, placing something down onto it before taking a few steps forward to the bedside. “I’m going to touch your hand, okay?”

_Okay._

Then he felt a cool pressure on his hand. Gentle fingers curled around his own, lifting them off the bed for a moment. Arthur’s other hand moved to steady his hand from below, so Alfred’s was enveloped within the physical therapists’.

_A-Arthur…_

“Are you in any pain?”

_No. It feels…good._

Something slid down his cheeks, tickling him, but he couldn’t do anything to wipe it away.

“You’re- You’re crying, Alfred.” Arthur’s voice was very soft.

_Sorry._

“It’s nothing you have to apologize for. Here, I’ll wipe them away for you.”

His hand was placed back down on the mattress, and Alfred instead felt the touches around his face, both Arthur’s fingers and the softer caress of a cloth. He only started crying harder though, so Arthur was bent over him for a few minutes, periodically wiping his face dry.

Finally though, Alfred seemed to be able to get himself under control and Arthur leaned away again. He picked up the object again and settled back in his chair.

“Better?”

_Yeah. Thank you._

“Of course. Would you like to talk some more?”

_I’m…so tired, Arthur. Sorry._

And he was. That brief cry had left him absolutely exhausted. His thoughts were incredibly sluggish and he didn’t think he’d be able to keep up a conversation with Arthur for any notable amount of time. But he didn’t want to sink back into that pool quite yet; he’d barely been talking to Arthur at all.

_Don’t want you to leave yet though. Please?_

“I could…read to you instead, perhaps?” Arthur offered.

_You’d do that for me?_

“Of course. I have a few books on my tablet, or I could look something up online. Do you have a preference?”

_No._

When Arthur started reading, he barely paid attention to the words anyway. Instead he allowed that smooth voice to wash him away. He drifted, not among the stars but in a river of green and gold, the words lapping against his body and cradling him downstream.

* * *

 

“Are you ready?”

_I think so._

Arthur had been kind enough to help him keep track of the days. The doctors had stopped putting Alfred under, instead wanting to help him develop a more regular sleep schedule. He didn’t talk to them too much; they were cold and impersonal, only seeing him as their miracle patient. Arthur actually talked _to_ him and with him, spending whole days at his bedside.

The reading helped stimulate his mind without overloading it so the doctors had him read to Alfred more, everything from children’s stories to the daily newspaper to a history textbook in order to slowly get him caught up on the events of the past century.

He also did light stretches with Alfred’s legs, arms, and neck every few hours to test his mobility and build up his muscles over time. Alfred loved those times the most, when Arthur’s cool fingers would grip his thigh or ankle or arm and manipulate his body. The motions themselves were repetitive and Alfred had memorized the routine in less than a day, but just the _touches_. He was definitely touch-starved after so long. His heart rate would speed up each time Arthur was doing the stretches, but he didn’t cry again. The physical therapist was also kind enough not to comment on the quickened beeping.

And today. Today was the day he would finally open his eyes.

He had been able to wriggle his toes and clench his hand earlier, and his eyelids had fluttered a few times. The doctors had rushed in and dimmed the room so as not to hurt his sensitive eyes, and Arthur was sat next to him, his hands gently holding one of Alfred’s.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

_I mean there’s no point in waiting, right?_

Arthur chuckled. “I suppose not. Come on then, Alfred. Open your eyes.”

Alfred took in a few deep breaths, then focused on sliding his eyelids open. Though he immediately squinted against the dim light, it was dark enough in the room for him to be able to adjust in just a few seconds. His vision was still blurry for a while, with the figures in the room just blobs scattered around the space. He blinked a few times, and with each blink his eyes adjusted more until the blurriness settled in one spot and refused to go away.

_Oh. I think I had glasses?_

“You did.”

The voice came from the nearest blob, which also happened to be the clearest. Arthur. All he could make out was a mop of light hair, pale skin, and a green sweater. Alfred squinted at him, his heart rate speeding up on the monitors again.

Something seemed familiar about him… But that couldn’t be possible, could it?

“Your prescription was in your file,” Arthur continued, not seeming to notice Alfred’s reaction. “We have a pair of glasses here with that matching prescription. I’m going to put them on you now, okay?”

_Okay._

“Close your eyes for a moment? I don’t want to poke them out on accident.”

Alfred chuckled, but obliged him. He heard Arthur shifting around, then picking something – presumably the glasses – up and shifting forward. The temples scraped softly against his face before settling on top of his ears, and the bridge rested comfortably on his nose.

“There we go.”

Alfred opened his eyes to see Arthur leaning back, his arms still outstretched and just starting to fall back to his sides. He sucked in a breath.

_Kirkland._

Arthur froze. “E-Excuse me?”

Messy, light-coloured hair. Thick, dark eyebrows. Those vibrant green eyes. This face was slightly different; the hair was a lighter blond and Alfred couldn’t see as many freckles scattered on the cheeks, but the resemblance was unmistakable.

And then he realized how strange he must be acting. _Sorry. You just…remind me of someone I…knew._

Arthur’s brows furrowed. “…My last name _is_ Kirkland.”

Alfred blinked, his mouth dropping open a little bit. He clenched and unclenched his hand lightly, since it was all he could do at the moment. _It is?_

“Yes. I didn’t give you my full name when I introduced myself, but it’s Arthur Kirkland.”

_Oh._

“…Alfred?”

 _Was there…_ Alfred closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate. The other face, the other Kirkland swum up to the forefront of his mind and his heart skipped a beat. _Was there a James Kirkland in your family? Who- Who went into the space program?_

Arthur was silent for a long time. Then, “…Yes. Yes, there was. My great-grandfather. He um, he died when I was a boy.”

“Mr. Jones,” one of the doctors interjected. “Your sight. How is it?”

Alfred didn’t respond or reopen his eyes.

“Mr. Jones,” the doctor repeated.

Arthur sighed. Alfred could tell it was him just from that. “I’m sorry. I seem to have caused a disturbance.”

“Mr. Jones, we will return tomorrow, in that case.”

Alfred understood the undertone of ‘so sort yourself out before then’ perfectly. Someone removed his glasses. He figured it was Arthur, since he was the closest, but he still didn’t say anything. He heard the doctors leave, but not the scrape of Arthur’s chair.

“I’m sorry, Alfred,” Arthur murmured to him, then finally stood and left.

Alfred drifted, but didn’t sink. James’s face was still clear in his mind. He’d nearly forgotten about him, but no one could really forget their first crush. He’d had a few classes with James, spoken to him a few times, but the British cadet had always intimidated him. He’d just been so smart and driven, almost on another level to Alfred. And so his crush had always stayed a distant one, purely a physical attraction.

And then Arthur’s face replaced James’s. Arthur, whose voice he liked so much. Arthur, who made him comfortable and eased him gently into everything. Arthur, who made him laugh and groaned whenever Alfred interjected with a pun or joke during their conversations. Arthur, who read to him for hours simply because Alfred liked it and it helped him. _Arthur_ , who had been looking so eager that Alfred had finally reached the stage of being able to open his eyes.

He knew Arthur better than he’d ever known James. The moment he heard Arthur’s greeting each morning his mood lifted, excited about their conversations for the day.

It was…a little weird, knowing Arthur was a descendant of his first crush. But Arthur was definitively Arthur, his own person who Alfred knew and liked very much, and Alfred’s feelings ran much deeper for him than they ever had for James.

Wait.

Liked?

Feelings?

Oh, Alfred was so screwed.

Was it even possible to develop feelings for a _voice_?

Apparently.

He was just glad that he was alone and Arthur wasn’t there to witness the way his heart rate took off with his revelation.

He scrunched his toes, nervous but at the same time relieved he’d managed to sort out his feelings with relative ease and speed. Should he confess though? He should, right? Tomorrow, or later, when Arthur came in to do the stretching-

The stretching exercises.

For Alfred’s muscles.

Because Arthur was a _physical therapist_.

Alfred’s physical therapist.

And Alfred was his client.

There were definitely rules about that.

He groaned, and his eyes shot wide open when his throat actually produced _noise_. When he tried to speak he couldn’t form out words yet, but he could make noise! Out loud! And suddenly, he decided to keep that a secret from the doctors.

But the Arthur situation was still complicated, so he groaned again closed his eyes, his mind whirring away quietly for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

“Right, and now your left foot again.”

Alfred dutifully scrunched the toes of his left foot.

“Do you think you can extend it out? Just try and lower the front of it closer to the mattress. You’ll likely feel the burn in your calves.”

_I’ll try, but I think my feet are close to cramping up._

They’d been doing scrunching and stretching and tensing exercises for the past ten minutes, and Alfred knew he was reaching his limit. He did still want to impress Arthur, though, so he did whatever the physical therapist asked with little complaint. Just a few days ago he could barely manage three minutes of the exercises, so his progress was also making him eager to push himself.

“Just this one last movement for now, if you can, and then you can rest,” Arthur promised him. His chair was placed further away from the bed still, but lately he’d started smiling more at Alfred again.

Neither of them had mentioned James Kirkland since the incident a week ago.

But Alfred was also surer of his feelings.

He took in a deep breath and did his best to point his toes down closer to the mattress. They did go down, about an inch and a half before he gasped and had to ease up.

_I think that’s all I can do right now. Sorry._

Arthur just shook his head, his small smile widening. “No, that’s fine. It’s more than fine. You’re doing so well, Alfred. Your muscle mass has increased again, and more so than expected. We’ll be able to start on lifting sooner than expected if you keep going at the rate you have been.”

_Really?_

“Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you about that, l- Alfred.” Arthur’s cheeks pinked faintly and he looked down, tapping at his tablet.

_Arthur?_

It sounded like Arthur had been about to call him something else.

Arthur didn’t reply, still tapping away.

Huffing softly, Alfred just laid there in silence. He could stand it for about five minutes, before he started fidgeting his fingers and aching toes. And then, his eyes lit up with an idea. He’d been practicing over the past week, and he knew he could say it. He opened his mouth.

“Arthur.”

“Hmm?” Arthur asked absently, before his fingers froze on the screen. He finally looked up, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock. “W-Wait.”

Alfred couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across his face. “Arthur,” he repeated.

“You can… You can talk now?” Arthur’s breaths suddenly started coming more quickly, and he lifted a shaking hand to his mouth.

“Lil bit. Doc doesn’t know. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh _Alfred_ ,” Arthur said, and he was crying. A smile sat on his lips though, and he let out a soft laugh. “Oh Alfred, you fool.”

Alfred was grinning so widely, so stupidly, he just knew it, but he couldn’t help it. “Arthur,” he said again, laughing and trying to inch his hand across the sheets towards him.

“You need to tell the doctors, you idiot!” Arthur stood up, but instead of leaving the room he threw his arms around Alfred’s neck and hugged him close. “Oh Alfred, I’m so happy though… So proud of you…”

All Alfred could do was lean his head into the embrace and attempt to nuzzle to Arthur’s soft hair. It felt good against his cheek, and he closed his eyes with a sigh. Arthur was getting his hospital gown damp, but he didn’t care. Arthur was close, Arthur was _holding him_ , and it felt so, so good.

Arthur pulled back after a moment, his hands pausing momentarily to cup Alfred’s cheeks. Their faces were inches away from each other’s, and those green eyes were still reddened and wet with unshed tears. They flicked around Alfred’s face, Arthur’s lips wobbling, and he almost seemed to lean in again before blinking and letting go entirely. He sniffed and dabbed at his face with a handkerchief, before taking a step for the door.

“Arthur?” Alfred asked.

“I’m going to go tell the doctor about your new progress, like _you_ should have done.” Arthur gave him a pointed look, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the pride and happiness still on the rest of his face.

As expected, the doctors rushed into his room and fussed over him for hours, asking him to say various things and examining his vocal cords for any sign of damage while he was speaking and humming and making all sorts of noises. They were impressed by his progress too, which Alfred was happy about, but Arthur didn’t return to his room for the rest of the day.

 

In fact, Arthur didn’t return for months. A new physical therapist suddenly showed up, but no matter how many times Alfred asked or who he posed the question to, he couldn’t find out what had happened to the Brit. The new woman was good at her job and just as conscious of Alfred’s limits, but it wasn’t the same. She was strictly professional, she didn’t hold conversations with him while doing the stretches about anything apart from the stretches. She didn’t read to him, and she left the room between their sessions.

He hated it. He missed Arthur, more than he’d missed the universe after he had been yanked back to reality after his century adrift. His chest hurt when he realized that, but he didn’t tell the doctors why he was crying.

Over time, he was moved onto a diet of more solids when he could chew and swallow without the actions exhausting him. He was able to lift his arms and legs up off the mattress, bend his joints in the proper places and rotate his shoulders. His progress was just as incredible as before, but it was meaningless.

 _So proud of you,_ Arthur had said.

It had been the best praise Alfred received in his life.

* * *

 

Alfred opened his eyes, then shut them again.

“Alfred…”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Alfred, please.”

“You left. You just _left_ me.”

“I know.” Arthur’s voice sounded pained. “And I’m sorry. Please, will you let me explain?”

“What’s there to explain?”

“Quite a lot. And…you don’t have to agree, of course you don’t, but please, I- I’m just asking for a chance to, well, to just explain. Give you, and myself some closure.”

Alfred opened his eyes again. Arthur didn’t have his tablet, or his ID card pinned to his trousers. There was a messenger bag on the ground beside his chair. He was dressed like always though, dark trousers and a sweater. This one was striped navy and forest. Alfred sighed. “Fine. Explain.”

Arthur’s eyes searched his face for a moment. “You’re doing well,” he started.

“Just. Explain.”

“Yes.” Arthur ducked his head down a little bit. His shoulders were hunched together like a bird’s, and his fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm against his knees. “I left because I couldn’t continue being your physical therapist.”

Alfred blinked. “What? Why?”

“I, er…” Arthur swallowed bit his lip.

Alfred narrowed his eyes. Were his cheeks red? “What?”

“There are certain rules, Alfred, in the medical field. Such as practitioners being…involved with their patients. It’s a matter of ethics, you see.”

“Involved?” Alfred just frowned at first, but then his eyes widened. “ _Involved_?”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes. Sexually, or, well, romantically. So when I started developing feelings for you, I felt the best thing for me to do would be to remove myself from my position. I didn’t want to jeopardize your recovery in any way, especially for reasons as selfish as that.”

Alfred didn’t reply. He just stared.

Eventually, Arthur raised his own gaze. He jolted a little bit when he met Alfred’s stare head-on, and licked his lips. “I’ll just…go then?” He reached for his bag.

“You like me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry-”

“Like. You _still_ like me?”

Arthur nodded, then glanced to the monitor that showed Alfred’s heartbeat racing along more and more rapidly. “Alfred?”

“I like you too!” Alfred all but shouted, sitting up in bed and reaching for Arthur’s hands.

The physical therapist blanched at the volume and started moving his hands back, but eventually allowed Alfred to touch him. “You do?”

“Sorry. But I do! I realized I liked you like a week before you up and disappeared! I wasn’t gonna say anything because of the rules but like. You could have told me…”

“What about my great-grandfather though? It sounded like…there was something there.”

Alfred snorted. “Yeah, a little crush. But I didn’t _know_ him, not like I got to know you. Arthur, I missed you _so much_ when you left, and no one would tell me what happened…”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmured, taking hold of Alfred’s hands in return and giving them a small squeeze. “And speaking of telling.” He lightly pinched Alfred’s wrist. “You could have, and even should have told me about your feelings too. Were you just planning on keeping them a secret forever?”

“Not forever,” Alfred mumbled back, his cheeks staining red. “Just until you weren’t my physical therapist anymore.”

“You are…”

“A fool? An idiot?”

“Both of those,” Arthur said with a small chuckle, and he suddenly let out a long sigh. “Though I think we were both a little foolish in this case.”

“Maybe.” Alfred was grinning by then, and he squeezed Arthur’s hands as tightly as he could manage.

“Oh!” Arthur jumped at that, and looked from their joined hands up to Alfred’s face. “You’ve gotten quite strong. You really are looking good, I meant that.”

“Thanks, Artie.” Alfred laughed when Arthur only reddened more at the nickname. “Want me to show you my progress?”

“If you’d like to, and you wouldn’t get in trouble.”

Alfred waved off the concerns. “It’ll be fine.”

He let go of Arthur’s hands and instead braced them on the mattress, sitting up. He then swung his legs slowly to hang off the edge of the bed, and after winking at Arthur, shimmied off of it to stand up. Though his balance was still off and he had to grip onto the side of the bed for stability and support, he was able to stay standing for a few moments before sinking down again.

Arthur looked like he was going to cry again. “Oh Alfred…”

“I know! Doc says I’ll be able to start walking soon, and even in as soon as like a month or two leave the hospital! Dunno where I’ll go, though…”

“You could…come live with me?” Arthur offered after a moment.

Alfred just stared at him.

“It’s just an option!” Arthur continued quickly. “We still have lots of things we need to talk about and you still have plenty more to do before you’re ready to be discharged in any way but if, when the time comes, you’re in a state of mind that you would still want to, then you’d be more than welcome to stay with me. It wouldn’t even have to be forever. We can find you a place of your own if that’s something you would want.”

After a few seconds of thought, Alfred gave a slow nod. “And- And us?”

Arthur smiled wryly. “Well of course now that I know you’re interested in me too I’d like to enter into a relationship with you, but that doesn’t have to be something we rush into either. You’ve made incredible progress with your recovery so far, and I wouldn’t want to overload you by pressuring you into a decision right away.”

“You’re so good, Arthur,” Alfred said with a dreamy sigh.

“Hardly.” Arthur laughed. “I’m just decent. And logical. I’ve… I’ve missed you too.”

Alfred reached for his hands again. “Don’t leave again?”

“Well I’ll have to go home sometimes, to shower and eat and sleep, but I will be here with you as long as visitation hours allow.”

“Okay. Good.” Alfred’s face suddenly paled and he let out a shaky breath. “C-Could you help me lay down again?”

“Of course.” Arthur hurried to stand and eased him down onto the bed, tucking him in afterwards. “There we go.” He smiled down at him, running a gentle hand through Alfred’s hair. “I’m still so proud of you. So incredibly proud, love.”

Alfred’s spirits soared despite the ache in his muscles. He still had a long way to go in his recovery, but he knew he could do it. With Arthur at his side, he could do anything.

* * *

 

“Do you miss it?”

Alfred rolled over on his side in the darkness, his hand seeking out Arthur’s. “Miss it?” he asked sleepily. He’d been on the verge of drifting off, but Arthur’s voice coaxed him back to the waking world.

“Space. The stars. You told me once, near the beginning that you could see the stars around you, that you floated among them and could touch them. Do you miss them, after oh what is it, four years back on Earth now?”

“No,” Alfred whispered, nuzzling right up to Arthur’s neck.

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve got you now, and that’s all I’ll ever need.”

And he meant it. He had floated among the stars for years, decades, but he had been alone, more than he’d even realized at the time. Just a tiny pod, floating through space, barely hanging onto life. Beautiful as they were, he had enough of the stars. He much preferred the vibrant, warm lights of the Earth reflected in Arthur’s green eyes.

He closed his eyes, his lips curving up as he felt Arthur’s warmth seeping into him. He’d made a full recovery. Miraculous, everyone called his story. There were still days where his muscles ached and he’d never be able to be quite as active as he had been a century before, and there was a sleek brown cane in their umbrella holder, but Alfred’s body worked properly. He didn’t have to be hooked up to machines and was predicted to live a full, independent life together with Arthur.

Alfred looked up at the stars sometimes. Arthur had even bought him a telescope as a kind-of gag gift. But his feet were planted firmly on the ground, and there they would stay.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: While I researched cryogenics and stasis pods and muscle atrophy recovery, I'm not at all claiming that the science or medical part of this is 100% accurate. I just hope that it sounds plausible. 
> 
> I also hope that you enjoyed this story! Commends and feedback are, as always, much appreciated! ^-^


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